


The quality of mercy

by beagain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Relationships, F/M, Good Albus Dumbledore, Human Disaster Abus, Human Disaster Regulus, Jude Law!Albus, Leta Lestrange Lives, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Manipulative Gellert Grindelwald, Past Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black Lives, Rewrite of my own fanfic even though i orphaned it, Self-Indulgent, Slow To Update, bc albus and gellert, for everyone, half were in a war guys and the other half had bad pasts, time-travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27828421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beagain/pseuds/beagain
Summary: Regulus Black is 34, feels 68, and has spent a life soul-hunting only to arrive too late to save his brother, the only other soul he cared about. The power of spite and binge-spellcrafting without sleeping are too powerful.Regulus is 34, feels 136, and he somehow ended up in Paris, 1927 in time to see how another Dark Lord rises to power. He thinks not.
Relationships: Leta Lestrange/Theseus Scamander, Regulus Black & Leta Lestrange, Regulus Black/Albus Dumbledore, Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander
Comments: 25
Kudos: 31





	1. Should have taken that nap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Johnnyfer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnnyfer/gifts).



> So yeah, this is a rewrite of the fic with the same name and summary. I had to abandon my account for a while for personal reasons, but I am back now!!

Regulus has no idea how he had ended up in this situation. 

“My brothers. My sisters. My friends. The great gift of your applause is not for me. No! It is for yourselves.” A pale man intoned with passion. He talked as if words themselves were spells, and he certainly was enrapturing the majority of wixen here “You came here today because of a craving, and a knowledge that the old ways serve us no longer. You came today because you crave something new. Something different.”

It wasn’t a total lie. Regulus had an approximate idea of the process that landed him in this...madness. The details were a little blurred. Either way, he desperately wished he had wisened up with age and chosen to take a nap instead of deciding to indulge in a grief-induced research binge.

Regulus blinked violently a pair of times and tried to discern if he had lost his balance or if the world had tinted to the left. He chanced another look at his strange surroundings. Yep, he was still in a weird mausoleum amphitheater surrounded by the French. Maybe he did take a nap. Maybe he was dreaming. It would make more sense if it was. 

“It is said that I hate le Non-magiques.” The pale man continued with his powerful words. Regulus had tried to listen to them at first, but he was too verbose. His brain registered the words but the meaning was so twisted it couldn’t keep up. “The Muggles.” He bit his cheek. It hurt. Not a dream then. 

“Vermin!” 

The crowd around him shouted as one and Regulus did _not_ jump like a startled kneazle. He was far too composed to that. But he shivered in revulsion, a little. The fervor of the witch on his left had a terrible resemblance with Mother in the middle of one of her episodes. On one hand, that is certainly one way to make Regulus focus. 

On the other, that amount of vitriol should be, if not illegal, at least very frowned upon in polite company. And the witch was not the only one doing their best performance of Walburga-in-a-rage. She was not even the worst offender. It looked like most of the wixen here feel like Walburga. Regulus was Walburga-surrounded. 

_Oh,_ _thank Merlin_ , he was in a nightmare. For a moment here, he thought he had traveled in time. What a relief. 

“The No-Maj. The Can't-Spells. I do not hate them; I do not.” The over-eloquent man continued his soliloquy on covert supremacy. He was so white, though, maybe he had an accident with coloring spells. They were a little basic to have them explode so badly on yourself, but Regulus’ room to judge is currently occupied by his own bad judgments. There’s no space for more. “For I do not fight out of hatred. I said that the Muggles are not lesser, but other. Not worthless, but of other value. Not disposable, but of different disposition.” 

Wait. 

That last bit was- 

Wow. How was Regulus’s subconscious monochrome dark lord so persuasive though? If Regulus didn’t know any better, he would be falling for that, hook line, and sinker. Wait, not that he was looking at the white man closer, he looked terribly like Grindelwald.

_Wait_. 

“Magic blooms only in rare souls. It is granted to those who live for higher things.” 

By Morgana’s wand, that really was Grindelwald. If he had added the famous slogan ‘Magic is Might’ his words were right out of the history books. Which meant that Regulus had traveled in time. _Without meaning to_. That was absurd and embarrassing, that what it was. What was he supposed to do in this- He hadn't even confirmed it! It was just a weird hunch. A probable one. Nonetheless, the possibility that he had done such an impossible thing was staring at his face. White and loud, and dramatic. ...and in French. Nothing was makings sense so it could be true. Regulus tried to breathe normally. It was hard, but there were larger concerns. Like how there was a point in the life of every witch when they have to look and themselves and go “what the fuck, me?” and this was Regulus’ moment. So, 

What the _fuck_ , Regulus. 

“Oh, and what a world we could make for all humanity, we who live for freedom, for truth... and for love.” The man (Grindelwald- Merlin) intoned dramatically.

His eye twitched violently, completely jumping out of the ~~conspiracy~~ (could it be considered a conspiracy if everything pointed for it being real?) spiral he was almost consumed by that sentence alone. Regulus was offended down his magical core to the amount of dragonshit the discolored man could say with such finality. Love, a Darklord? Freedom??

Regulus had not spent the last 16 years of his life chasing after the shards of the soul of an inbred mutt in a desperate search of some kind of redemption and _fail_ just so this man could come and sprout all these fraudulent sentimentalism in his quest for power and world domination or whatever Dark lords wanted apart from the suffering of absolutely everyone but them. Resolved, he opened his mouth to first, boo at the madman, and second, verbally eviscerate him. 

(And fuck all those rules about time-traveling and not-interfering, Regulus was not so sure about the existence of the first and too done for the second to matter.)

“The moment has come to share my vision of the future that awaits if we do not rise up and take our rightful place in the world.”

The crowd (oh Merlin, had Regulus compared them with his mother? Bloody hell, that’s why he should have taken a nap) starts to grow even rowdier, which clearly was a sign for Regulus to remember he was a Slytherin at soul, and while Griffyndor dramatics were fine and great for petty momentaneous satisfaction and a total lack of forethought, Regulus was not seventeen anymore. 

So he closed his mouth, suddenly remembered that walking away from this nonsense was not only possible but also the best option, considering he was time-misplaced (Mistimed?) and this dark lord was not, in any shape of form, his responsibility. If you were in a frustrated crowd and did not want it to turn into an angry mob that will chase you and probably stone you to death with some added very nasty curses, you should not oppose it. A basic survival skill that Regulus regained after blinking away the black spots in his vision. 

Then Grindelwald began what Regulus could only describe as a weird mix of doing hookah and a public pensive with gothic aesthetics and showed some war and destruction in the smoke. Muggle war, at that. Just because. 

(Well, Regulus hoped the skull was fake and there for the intimidation factor. He refused to be involved with anything necromancy ever again. Not after that cave.)

Regulus may be a bit of a history nerd, but he was also raised by supremacists and spent his life on the run, so he may have a few blanks up there, but didn’t that particular war happen with _Grindelwald_ at the magical front? That was such a huge glaring sign of something more going on behind the scenes. Then again, Grindelwald was famous for his tendency for charms and mirrors, what exact- 

You know what? _No_. Regulus had played the detective game with Dark Lords once before and that was enough. Nope. Count him out.

“Not another war” A man a little below him -who had spent the entire rally muttering with the pretty witch he came with- muttered with horror. Regulus decided he liked him, if only because he seemed the only one in his sight capable of critical thinking. 

(Good. Let _him_ play the detective game with this particular Dark Lord. Regulus sure wasn’t.)

“That is what we are fighting! That," Grindelwald’s voice was firm," is the enemy.” Just for the theatrics of the man, Regulus wished he had renounced warmongering or whatever Dark Lords did when they weren't self-mutilating and chose to teach history at Hogwarts “Their arrogance! Their power lust. Their barbarity.” Grindelwald was a great orator, starting strong and ending with soft solemnity. Regulus lamented all those boring lessons on Goblin Wars (and that lonely, short, terribly censured lesson on this particular one) when he could have had a competent teacher like this.

Maybe he was being ridiculous, but it was better to regret what he could have had than to let the weight of his weird situation hit home with the added bonus of Yet Another Dark Lord, which was terrifying. Not only because he made his Dark Lord look like an amateur at manipulation -Voldemort got so bad at faking emotion at the end that Regulus, a fanatic sixteen-year-old who had not known individual thinking until it almost killed his domestic elf, started to get suspicious about his motives. Faking emotion was hard when you have none because you broke your soul into tiny pieces all across the world for Regulus to chase, like a jerk.

Of course, it would have helped that in his moment of madness and no sleep, Regulus remembered exactly _when_ he was. Then it would be just a little arithmancy to know how far Grindelwald's downfall was from now. And maybe where, because being surrounded by the French was not a good sign. Regulus was fluent, yes, evidently because everyone was speaking french and he was following along, it was a huge hint of where he was and yet,

France was a big country. Other French-speaking countries were even bigger. Regulus could be anywhere. His only clue is that he did not recognize the place which was an awful hint to have. 

“How long will it take before they turn their weapons on us?” Grindelwald was really giving his all to this speech. Regulus was too mentally spent to deal with all this. He had more important problems. 

Like the possibility of being not only lost in time but in space, too. Regulus sort of knew when he was trying to time-travel to -surprisingly, you can no longer have ridiculous but reasonably safe side-projects while you bore yourself to death when soul-hunting because they _bit you in the ass_ \- but Grindelwald was the wrong Dark Lord for Regulus. He had no bludger to beat at him with, apart of general disdain for failing so permanently at a coloring charm for what he could only guess as gaudy heterochromia he left himself permanently _white_. The color, not the race. How he dared to show his face in public after such a disgrace, Regulus would never know.

Either way, had his Dark Lord - Regulus really has to call him another thing because the possessive was giving him the creeps- even been born yet? If he was a little boy or worse, a baby, Regulus didn’t fancy going to a muggle Orphanage to _murder it_ , even if he probably should, by all accounts. It may be the bigger picture, but killing children was not his cup of tea. 

“Do nothing when I speak of this.” Grindelwald was still speaking. The man never stopped, even if his tone had suddenly changed to a warning. Spare Regulus the theatrics, Whiteman, was this a rally or a play? “You must remain calm and contain your emotions.” Then, like sharing a secret among friends “There are Aurors here among us.”

Merlin was Regulus glad that he turned his wand away from this situation. This could only end in violence. 

“Come closer, brother wizards, join us.”

Well, that was a fine way to make sure that Aurors will never join him if Sirius and James Bloody Potter were anything like most Aurors. In his experience, officers of the law were one of the most stubborn and spiteful breeds of wixen out there. But maybe things were different in whatever French-speaking country they were in. Maybe they were easily corrupt and caved under pressure. It might be immoral of him, but for the sake of _not being involved in a magical massacre_ , Regulus hoped French ...Aurors (aeûrouré?? Something with many vocals and weird accents, probably) were nothing like English ones. 

“They have killed many of my followers. It is true.” Grindelwald mourned. He was almost as bad at it as his Dark Lord. His brother once mourned a piece of bread that fell to the ground with more real emotion than that. Then he ate it because he was a brute with no manners. “They confined me and tortured me in New York.”

Forget it, Regulus hoped French Aurors were _everything_ like their American counterpart. Oh, if only they chose to kill him instead of giving him their best confinement and torture lodgings. 

“They had struck down their fellow witches and wizards, for the simple crime of seeking the truth, for wanting freedom. Your anger, your desire for revenge is natural.”

Wow, he really was able to say that with a straight face. Regulus wanted out of this place. He grimaced and looked around, only to pull out a scowl. It was not only because he got a little dizzy, but it looked like people here believed him. He started to think about escape routes- the situation was a potion slowly boiling over, towards an unknown and yet disastrous outcome.

...In hindsight, he should have spent all this time looking for an escape route, but better late than never. Regulus proceed to do a twirl to be away from there and only avoided to shout in frustration at his inability to apparate because it would have been uncouth. Damn those anti-apparition wards. They were offensive.

Regulus got distracted by a flash of awfully familiar green light to his right. he turned just to see a woman dropped down the floor, suspiciously inert, and Grindelwald running towards...the hopefully not-a-corpse. 

“No!” Grindelwald shouted, apparently horrified. Like Sirius and his bread all over again. That was insensitive of him, that was clearly a dead witch. Killed by an Auror. A witch, not Bread. 

Bloody fantastic. 

And there went Grindelwald, all gentle and caring, holding the woman as if her death mattered to him as more than a way to prove his point. "Take this young warrior back to her family,” he said softly, convincingly. Eating his bread directly from the ground like a heathen. Regulus hated it here. 

(He hated it back in his timeline as well but at least he knew what was going on on that one. Mostly. 

...He could admit that the teenagers riding thestrals right into the Ministry of Magic while he was, let’s say, carefully revising its continued integrity -don’t look at him like that, Dark Lords’ brain could classify the Ministry as a great hiding spot, they work in nonsensical ways.- threw him off for a bit. And then Sirius was dead a fact that had thrown him into a miserable state that later landed him in the current (past?) situation.) 

“Disapparate.” Good news! “Leave. Go forth from this place and spread the word. It is not we who are violent.” Terrible news!

Unless, of course, your name was Regulus and this was not your problem. Which was his cue to leav-

Wait. He didn’t know where he was, much less where-and-when he was. He couldn’t apparate with no clear destination, that was asking to be splinched. Which couldn’t be the ones he knew because apart from the impossibility of apparating directly into another country, the consequences of a sudden appearance in the middle of his ‘curse first, ask later’ family claiming to be a Black were self-explanatory. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

He could try walking? He turned to see the remains of a mob. An increasingly aggressive one. Possibly made up by pissed off Aurors at that, recognizable for their dark clothes and dark scowls, and Grindelwald underlings, who shared the same characteristics. It was rather difficult to say who was who. Regulus could even make a game out of- _No, he couldn't_. Mordred, not sleeping had really affected his self-preservation instincts.

Instincts that were telling him to be gone. Apparation was out, but maybe he could Side-Along a kind stranger. However, at a first glance, after a Wizard already managed to glare at him while disapparating, followed by two more wixen or twelve, it seemed like an inadvisable course of action.

So. Asking for a sidelong was out of the question, considering people apparently thought he was an Auror. He had never, in his life, had this problem before. People thinking he was a criminal yes, he just had to say his whole name and he was suddenly Lord Voldemort Jr. But People thinking he was a law-abiding citizen? People thinking he was an officer of the law? Merlin, what a weird sensation. He was rather offended but also three steps away from preening. Everyone was aware of his changed political views. They mainly consisted in his life motto: No More Dark Lords for Regulus. He was on a diet.

(Not that Death Eaters really _ate_ anything special and even if they did, Regulus walked out that life-No, sleep-deprived brain, stop it, Regulus had no time for you) 

“Let’s take him,” A dark-haired man said behind him. _‘What about no_ ’ Regulus wanted to add, not knowing the date but knowing who defeated this particular Dark Lord. Who just decided to cast a ring of blue fire that erupted around him in a spectacular show of magical progress and aesthetics- 

...Did he plan this rally to this point? Should Regulus applaud? It was rather pretty, even if the scenery was a little too perfect. How Slytherin of him. Of course, after such a casual show of power, his allies didn’t wait to join him, harmlessly jumping over the fire. Not the first choice of Regulus to differentiate Auror from Death Eater-wait, wrong Dark Lord. Still, did Grindelwald supporters even have a name? A theme? Uniforms with matching masks? Not even the tattoo? Forget about slytherin, what was he, a muggle-born? What kind of criminal organization did not have the basic manipulation tools for advocates and-

Actually, that was irrelevant to the current situation. Merlin, he really missed up on that nap. 

Wait, what was Grindelwald doing while Regulus got distracted? Oh, would you look at that, he could choose who to burn. How delightful, a silent _Protego diabolical_ , which was just a sentient step away from fiendfyre. In a rare (at the moment) burst of rationality, Regulus decided to stay where he was. He was good at looking bored and superior - the _real_ pureblood trait.- It ought to confuse the majority in wondering his alliances. Let them play Auror or Death Ea-godammit, how were the Grindelwald crooks called? It was haunting him in a most unhelpful manner. Whatever, he would call them the GrindelCronies, no, the Grindelpals. 

Regulus was so witty, Kreacher would have lost it at Grindelpals. 

“Aurors, join me in this circle, pledge to me your eternal allegiance, or die.” Grindelwald really was really averse to shutting up, it seemed. He was good at speeches too, which was rather despicable of him. He was using his strong traits very smartly and Regulus would really appreciate if Dark Lords were a little stupider or at least a little less convincing. “Only here shall you know freedom, only here shall you know yourself.”

Regulus would like to ask how pledging eternal allegiance was anything like freedom but he, in a great show of restraint and self-preservation, abstained. 

“Play by the rules!” Grindelwald taunted, throwing flames at the fleeing Aurors and destroying a couple of them. Just what the situation was lacking, more murder. “No cheating, children” 

Regulus eyed the cursed flames coldly, wondering if the man would come for him next. Little could stop this kind of flames and Regulus definitely did not have the time or the resources (or, sadly, the concentration) to create a mass-scale _Purgeo_ to purify them and then vanish them. They were too big and too controlled, for one. He could probably throw some fiendfyre, fight fire with fire, and control _those_ flames. He would solve the problem, but then he would have another, even worse, problem. It may be an unpopular opinion but, generally speaking, the less fiendfyre you threw at your situation, the better. For everyone involved. 

(It needed to be said. Specailly after meeting that Hungarian wizard who loved to threw fiendfyre at his problems as a universal solution. He was, somehow, not dead yet for how frequently he used that amazing that approach to problem-solving. An undeserving blessing of Mother Magic)

“He knows who I am,” a very sad-looking young man to his left said suddenly, which Regulus only noticed because he was speaking English. His struggling companion, who was silently shaking her head, was not as eager to join a Dark Lord's cult, cementing her role as the brain of the pair. 

Revaluating the flames, because even if Regulus’s attention span was currently not working immediate danger was hard to ignore, the _Protego_ Charm would have to do, even if at most it was just a stalling tactic. At least he wouldn’t burn to ashes this way. 

“He knows what you were born,” the woman pleaded with him, deciding silence was not the right tactic to deal with a potential Grindelpal, “not who you are!”

Alas, but the man didn’t listen to her and jumped lethal flames to become one. Another man, with a suitcase- who went to a rally with luggage? Society these days, not even managing a Diminution Charm, honestly- tried to stop him, fruitlessly throwing magic at the flames. He managed not to die and little else. Good try, suitcase-man. Also, dramatic companion please don’t cry in public even if your partner just left you, the Grindelpals were not worth it and public displays of emotions made Regulus uncomfortable. 

“Queenie” The man who will be saddled with this Dark Lord's detective work (Regulus did not want it) tried holding onto his harebrained companion. “You gotta wake up.” Unfortunately, his critical thinking didn't seem to affect his taste in women. A Grindelpal, really? Regulus lamented the taste of some people. At least she was pretty. Oh, a Grindel _gal_ , nice. 

“Jake,” She said, breathless for some reason, “he’s the answer” Oh, give Regulus a break. He was clearly the problem. “He wants what we want”

“No, no no no,” Jake tried to hold onto her, “no, no”

“Credence,” Grindelwald was hugging the sad-looking man. Who ought to have a class on how to stand or seven, his posture was offending all of Regulus' remaining delicate pureblood sensibilities. “This all has been for you” 

Did this man never tired of lying? He had even changed the language to lie better. Forget it, Regulus preferred to rewatch the Grindelgal leaving their companion behind to see this dishonesty at play again. Which he turned to do. 

“Come with me,” 'Queenie' said as if that was a reasonable course of action, also in English. Had Regulus been in England this whole time? Had, had he changed countries without noticing? Wait no. The people here were there same, he must be in the same place. 

“Honey, no” 

Oh, they were a couple. Nevermind the country he was in then, Regulus had larger concerns. Like wondering when exactly the Supremacist’s rally had turned into a peak break-up spot and how to make it stop _._

“Walk with me!!” Grindelgal suddenly shouted, in hysterics and out of them in a blink. 

“You’re crazy,” Jake said and Regulus agreed. Grindelgal turned her back to him as if offended and ran to the flames, ignoring Jake’s pleas to stop. Then he joined Grindelwald and Regulus had to stop paying attention to the drama and start to pay attention to the fire because it was suddenly on his face. 

He batted the flames away with a scowl. They were annoying and _Protego_ was useless as anything but a temporary remedy. Like firing an _Episkey_ at the bite of a werewolf. Sure, you didn’t bleed to death this way, but you were certainly fucked.

“Scamander!” Grindelwald suddenly shouted, because apparently his lies were now directed at individual English persons rather than the French collective. “Do you think Dumbledore would mourn you?” Then he sent the most concentrated set of flames yet to the suitcase man. 

What was that supposed to mean? Where did it even come from? Morgana, Regulus wanted to leave this place once and for all. Say whatever you wanted about Death Eaters meeting but at least they didn't involve so much personal drama. (Just Bella's drama. It was rather painful but at least it wasn't as embarrassing) 

“Why do you care about who Dumbledore would mourn?” Regulus grumbled to himself, mostly. Then the flames came for him. Regulus batted them away. He must have been louder than he thought he was being though it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He had gotten very good at avoiding dying in his Soul-hunting adventures. He had a lot of practice. 

“Who are you?” Grindelwald said, suddenly interested in him. Regulus resisted the urge to curse himself and his big snarky mouth. It was the Black genes, they naturally didn't like to be unnoticed.

“Not an Auror,” he said, because he was stupid, it seemed. “Not a follower either, sorry.” Still stupid but not sorry at all.

Grindelwald looked at him for a moment and then discarded him as something uninteresting. It had mostly to do with suitcase-man Scamander -wait, Scamander as in _Newt Scamander?_ The magizoologist? Regulus had love-

Regulus could die, right now, if he were to be distracted. 

“Grindelwald, stop!” A woman suddenly ordered with true pureblood authority- it was all in the posture, really. That's why the sad-looking Grindelpal was so offensive, he didn't know how to stand. Children knew how to stand, it was ridiculous.- The woman naturally captured all the attention in the amphitheater, which was the perfect opportunity for him to disillusion himself (with the added effect of a tortured scream) in case Grindelwald were to notice him a second time. Sure, he could probably discover him if he looked but Regulus has studied his Dark Lords

They were terribly arrogant. And Regulus was extremely good at faking his death. (He had a lot of practice at that, too)

“Leta!” Exclaimed a man that looked too much like Scamander to not be related to him. Regulus liked this Leta, even if she was either suicidal or a supremacist. He respected style. The Cousin-Scamander was fighting most bravely against the flames. Pity he couldn’t win, seeing as he was fighting with _Protegos_. 

“This one I believe I know,” Grindelwald said, acting as if the fighting Scamander was nothing. Were all Dark Lords this overpowered? Regulus rather despised them “Leta Lestrange” 

Regulus disliked Lestranges by principle -Rabastan and Robustus had left an impression -but he never knew that family to have females on it. He thought they drowned them at birth. 

“Despised entirely amongst wizardkind,” Grindelwald continued rudely. Because, for some reason, Regulus was listening to him now. “Unloved, mistreated” Regulus didn’t like the parallels he was getting between this woman and himself. “Yet brave” This was just like he imagined his ‘welcome back you traitor’ speech pre-Cruciatus would have had gone after the locket. “So very brave”

Regulus stared a little more. He felt a pang on his chest and ignored it.

“Time to come home,” Grindelwald said, offering her his hand. Lestrange took it, only to not follow Grindelwald at the last moment. 

“I love you” She said to the Scamanders, _that_ expression on her face. It was making him feel things so Regulus decided to focus on the personal drama of it all. And because this rally was truly a great break-up spot ever, he had a great variety of personal drama to chose from. 

Leta Lestrange threw that resolution with a magnificent curse at Grindelwald, aka the trash. He batted it away like it was nothing, but still. It was the sentiment that counted. Also, it bounced into his magical skull, making it explode violently which certainly was a plus. 

“Go!” She shouted at the Scamanders ignoring the sudden blinding light - _ow_ , his eyes, his head- and the enraged and uncontrolled ring of fire “Go! Go!”

Did, 

Did she just-

Oh, Mordred's balls, that was brilliant. She had in one move destabilized the demonical flames and created a splendid distraction. Regulus threw three _Protegos_ before he knew what he was doing and caught Lestrange with him, running upstairs and dragging the confused woman, who nonetheless started following once she figured out what he was trying to do.

“The Disillusion Charm!” He shouted at her. “Can you cast it?”

“Not well!” She gasped, losing a shoe. She cast a _Protego Maxima_ at the flames, which almost certainly saved both their lives. Now he really couldn’t let her die. 

“Fine!” Regulus continued to run, Cousin-Scamander still furiously trying to reach them. “How are your tortured screams?”

“Waiting for certain death to shine”

Witty too? Regulus smirked. 

“What about a fake one?”

Grindelwald pointed his wand at them and Regulus didn’t think, he threw the first spell in mind.

_‘Expelliermus!’_

Grindelwald had to duck to avoid the sudden red light, looking bewildered at the source of the spell. Right, Regulus was still disillusioned. Leta threw another _Protego_ at the incoming flames, which saved them again from a very painful death

“I don’t think we have the time for one!” She told him, looking rather hurried. 

“Leta!” Cousin-Scamander insisted on trying to reach them. Regulus and Lestrange ended up back to back, climbing sideways to the faraway exit like a pair of especially stupid fire crabs.

(Well, maybe not _fire_ crabs, all things considered.)

“I can’t apparate,” Regulus exclaimed, throwing _Protego_ after _Protego_ at the cursed flames like a moron without a plan, “I don’t know where we are!”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Lestrange said, “Theseus go away!” She ungratefully screamed at his desperate beau just before grabbing his arm to side-along him. 

They ended up just outside the amphitheater, both breathing hard. His Disillusionment Charm had disappeared, revealing him to the world in all of his insomniac glory. 

“Thanks but who the hell are you?” Lestrange asked him, once she could stand straight. “Also, we’re in Paris” _Idiot_ , she had not needed to add.

“Regulus B-” He cut himself off before he told her his whole life, too. He really wasn’t thinking straight, to give away his name like that. He had spent years on the run, he should have known better. Lestrange opened her mouth to add commentary to her disbelieving face but she was interrupted.

“Leta!” Cousin-Scamander shouted at the distance. Lestrange immediately turned to the voice, which was growing desperate. Maybe because he had miraculously survived the peak break-up spot, judging by the fervor “LETA!”

“Theseus!” She called back, “In here!”

The man came up running, like a fool, and had to be tackled out of incoming flames by Suitcase-Scamander. Flames that were coming to their direction too, more furious and uncontrolled than before. 

“Run!” He told Lestrange before throwing himself at one of the mausoleum doors. He didn’t know how they remained unscathed by the cursed fire, but they did. Suddenly, rather than flames, Regulus could see fire beasts, eager to consume anything under their touch “The spell is out of control!” He said, shooting at the draconic head of fire at reach. 

The next minutes were a mix of shouting, running, throwing spells at fire beasts, and praying for their lives, with random people joining in. They finally reached some stairs that hopefully would lead to the exits of this terrible, no-good, mausoleum but an elderly man was awaiting them at the base of the stairs.

“Together in a circle!” The incredibly old and fragile man suddenly shouted at them. Randomly.“Your wand to the earth of all Paris will be destroyed!”

Regulus didn’t stop to second-guess the stranger, too desperate for his brain to start being paranoid or to devise a magical way to deal with all of this. The _Protego_ were not working so well. They divided themselves into pairs, Lestrange with him.

“ _Finite!_ ” He shouted with the rest of them, Lestrange doing the same at his side, digging his wand into the ground. A ring of red light erupted between them, sending a red ring of fire and trapping the fire beasts. 

Merlin help them, they were fully formed draconians. The ones that didn’t go away if you simply blasted their heads. _Protego Diabolical_ was really a step away from fiendfyre. A few seconds later and they all would have been consumed. Thank Morgana for the random elder. 

The beasts disappeared slowly, either trying to escape the red ring just to the ring to absorb them or to consume all they could of the mausoleum before being consumed themselves. They likely cursing the land for at least a couple of centuries, and Regulus couldn't bring himself to care. Let this be a lesson to future Grindelpals: if there's a rally, there's a curse on the land for eternity. 

There was a beat in the sudden silence as if they were making sure that the fire was truly extinguished before Regulus let out a loud groan and let himself fall into the ground.

“I bloody hate Paris,” He said with feeling. Lestrange snorted at his side, panting. After a moment, they slowly picked themselves up to join the rest of them. 

“Are you a Black?” She casually asked on the way, as if they were not almost-dying five seconds ago. Regulus stared at her. “There’s no other family that name themselves after stars, and you look the part” She added as a bland apology. 

Regulus...

Regulus really should walk away from this mess and try to do what he time-traveled for - which was, probably, to kill a baby or a small child. A thing that historically, has not gone well for the murderer. For further reference, see Lord Voldemort Vs Baby, 1981. - However, for some reason, he didn’t want to. Not yet at least. It probably was the lack of sleep and the adrenaline of the fight, the unholy combination. 

“It’s complicated” He admitted

“I also thought the Blacks were Grindelwald supporters” 

They were called Grindelpals, Lestrange, do keep up.

“Well,” Regulus managed not to say that AND tried to say something not terribly incriminating. Sadly, his brain was a casualty of the battle and he had never thought to ask his grandparents about their political views on Voldemort, much less on Grindelwald, so the truth was out. He was also not very in touch with the currents affairs of House Black to get away with a lie “I am not” 

Years of the best tutoring and this is the eloquence of the last Black. Staggering. 

“There’s, also, already a Regulus.” She doesn’t look as if she believes him. Regulus mumbled something incoherent. He was too tired to form full-fledged conspiracies. “And you, sir, are the wrong age to be Regulus Black, considering he’s nineteen.” 

“Oh”

“And you look nothing alike,” Lestrange waved a hand around her face, “apart from the eyes.”

“Ah.” Regulus cleared his throat. “That’s...unfortunate”

“Indeed”

“Leta!” Cousin-Scamander shouted, again, in the distance “LETA!”

“Theseus!” Lestrange called back in a repetitive and yet no less desperate way “Newt!” Nice to know that Grindelwald may be gone but the personal drama was back.

Cousin-Scamander and Suitcase-Scamander both apparated away to their side. (Well, Theseus and Newt but Regulus was trying no to think about _Theseus and Newt Scamander_ , historical relevant figures, thank you very much) and didn’t waste time to engulf Lestrange in a hug.

“Never,” Cousin-Scamander said with feeling, “do that to me again. Do you hear me? Never again ”

He was crying, Regulus noted. And pretty. 

“Leta” Suitcase-Scamander ran and joined the impromptu hug “What were you thinking, Leta!” He was also rather good-looking.

“It’s okay,” Leta said very softly, the last piece of an alluring triangle “I’m fin-”

“Is that a niffler? ” Regulus exclaimed with the intelligence and tact of a flobberworm. In his defense, he didn’t expect a Niffler, of all things, in the pocket of Suitcase-Scamander. After a very near dead experience. After traveling in time for almost half a century. After not sleeping for more than two days. After finding his brother- 

Well, it had been a very hard, very long day (days?) for Regulus. And nifflers were very cute. 

“Oh, yes,” Suitcase-Scamander said like it was normal, increasing the chances that he was Newt Scamander by a lot. “His name is Leonard” 

“My name is Regulus,” it’s the stupid thing that came out of his mouth. Lestrange looks rather unimpressed, even if the effect is ruined with her hair and clothes in such disarray. She was also crying, as was Cousin-Scamander but he didn’t seem to pay him any attention. Regulus resolved not to be offended, he had clearly been threatened by how many couples had broken up in the Grindelwald rally for the best break-up spot avaible in Paris. 

“Mine is Newt Scamander,” Suitcase-Scamander said, extending an amicable hand in greeting. Regulus shook it, feeling rather shaken himself.

“The author of _‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’_?” He asked in a weak voice. 

...Regulus rather hoped he had already published the book. 

“Yes,” Suitcase-Scamander looked proud and shy, and rather adorable. “Have you read it?”

Had Regulus read the book he slept with for one month straight when he was seven? Oh Morgana, he still could quote it like a nerd. 

“Mhm.” He smiled blandly. “I loved the,” he gestured vaguely, “Occamies.” Clearly, his brain couldn’t process more information and had shut down. What an inane thing to say. 

Regulus opened his mouth to try to look less like a witless moron but instead fell to the ground in a dead faint, feeling hugely relieved about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regulus: *has not sleep for days* what is going on- oh look! a butterfly
> 
> He is absolutely everywhere and one step away from a dead faint out of exhaustion-Oh, wait. He isn't anymore


	2. Time-travel? Impossible ....unless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regulus woke up to the insisting and yet somewhat relaxing light of the sun on his face. He stretched lazily in his comfortable bed like a cat. He felt warm, well-rested and very willing to laze about for the next thirty minutes. It was a good feeling. At that last thought, he shot up, eyes wide.
> 
> Something had gone terribly wrong.

Regulus woke up to the insisting and yet somewhat relaxing light of the sun on his face. He stretched lazily in his comfortable bed like a cat. He felt warm, well-rested, and very willing to laze about for the next thirty minutes. It was a good feeling. At that last thought, he shot up, eyes wide.

Something had gone terribly wrong. 

With growing panic, he realized he didn’t recognize the room where he was at and neither did he remember much of the day before (and what he did, didn’t make any sense. Most probably a strange dream of.. Time-traveling straight at the lap of a Dark Lord. It was so random, it couldn't be true) One thing was clear, he had to regroup and fast if he didn’t want to be caught unaware by whoever had put him in such a nice bed. In a rush, he freed himself from the comfortable mattress he found himself in and searched for his wand like a madman. He couldn’t find it, and he wasn’t reckless enough to make a racket searching for it or slow enough to do it the muggle way. A silent wandless _Accio_ left him with no results and even fewer possibilities. 

Wandless magic wasn’t easy, not to mention silent and wandless but Regulus had made sure to master a few spells either way. The summoning Charm was one of them, thankfully. He could call his wand to him but that carried risks. A floating piece of wood wasn't subtle and _Accio_ was a linear spell- if there were physical barriers between caster and casted object, then it was useless. It has also a limited aura of influence, something that Regulus was more able to affect even wandless. He kept his magic to the confines of the room and waited. Nothing happened. Great. His wand wasn't in the room. While there were ways to make _Accio_ ineffective -the ward wasn't common knowledge, but it was more for lack of use than any difficulty involved- Regulus had taken those wards into consideration years ago and he carved the runes necessary in his wand to make it pointless. Someone had taken his wand after he lost consciousness, leaving him defenseless in a room -they most likely were waiting for him to wake. Regulus snarled in silence. They could wait on an empty room, then.

He turned to the only door of the room, considering it for half a second. _Alohamora_ was another spell he has mastered wandless. A contingency, if the worst were to occur. He didn’t cast the charm, the current situation was not so dire to throw subtlety to the window yet. Better to know what he was fighting against, and prepare accordingly, than to launch himself blindly into a fight. Having no wand was inconvenient, true, but he could always buy another. 

Speaking of windows, his room had one. Decent sized, too, for a grown man to squeeze himself out. He eyeballed the distance to the ground. Two Floors, maybe three, but they were in an old house with plenty of portuberances to grab onto and very close neighbors. It wouldn't be a straight fall. As silently as he was able, he made another round across the room, putting on his coat and shoes from a chair and opening all the drawers he could find to pick up anything that could be of use. He didn’t find much, and certainly not his wand, but it could do in a pinch, even if it’s just a couple of gobstones, the french equivalent of spellotape, and a spare bag of floo powder. Trinkets found, he made way towards the window to make his escape. 

“Good, you’re awake- _what are you doing!?_ ”

He had all but his left foot outside the window when the male (Familiar, but not recognizable) voice interrupted him. Regulus relied on his instincts and _moved_. 

He ducked from the window in time to evade a stunning spell, rolled across the room without pausing, picked up the chair where he found his jacket and threw it at the (not?) stranger in one quick motion. The stranger managed to blast the chair away from him but he wasn’t fast enough to stop Regulus from barreling into him. They grappled for a moment, but surprise was an advantage that Regulus knew not to waste.

Only when he had him firmly on the floor, his hands held firm by the wrist by one of Regulus’ and a reclaimed wand at hand did Regulus pause enough to examine the man underneath him. The trashing only stopped when he held the wand at his throat and Regulus had a moment to be thankful for it -he was wiry but brute strength had never one of his fortes, he was a seeker, not a beater- before he stared, speechless. 

He tried and failed to make sense of the face underneath him before he ducked on instinct alone. It was a nice face, clear with sharp features. It was a face he shouldn't know. A red light hit where his head was a moment before.

“That was a warning” A (even more) familiar voice drawled from the doorway “If you don’t unhand my fianceé I will have to break out the family spells”

Regulus blinked at Leta Lestrange as he tried to process the situation without gaping or dissolving into a puddle of despair. So it did happen. He had time-traveled somehow into the lap of Grindelwald. He had hoped it had all been a weird but vivid dream, some strange way of his brain for coping with-

Well. Better not to get into that, now. 

“Oh, please do,” Regulus quipped, standing up with as much grace as he could and pointedly not returning the wand. “We can compare grimoires”

“Let’s not tempt fate now” Lestrange returned easily, not lowering her wand but waiting for her fianceé (Something Scamander. He couldn’t recall. Theodore? Thesaurus?) to return to his side. Instead of doing the smart thing, however, the man put himself into his not inconsiderable height and turned to Regulus. 

“My wand,” he said with confidence, “if you may”

Regulus licked his lips to avoid laughing at the man. As if Regulus would willingly give up his only way to defend himself just for a polite request. It was such a brash and senseless thing to say, really, but Regulus couldn’t really expect more for the man who insisted on fighting the same losing battle against dark flames.

(Regulus was no stranger at lost battles himself, but he at least tried _different methods_ while he was at it)

Even if he was foolish enough to agree, he would be placing faith in the honor of strangers, an act so bold and stupid only a-

“A Gryffindor, really?” He ignored the man to speak to Lestrange instead, enjoying more than he should the irritation that flashed across Scamander’s face “I thought you had _taste_ , Lestrange”

It was quick, very subtle, and most people would have missed it, but amusement crossed Lestrange's face before she schooled her features into polite disinterest. The expression suited her well, even if it made her seem a little languid. It was not a bad look, there was no way to make those cheekbones anything but attractive.

“Return his wand,” she told him, her wand still pointing to his chest. “I will not repeat myself”

“As long as I am returned mine” He twirled the wand in his hand with a hint of a sneer. Lestrange raised an eyebrow.

“We only took it as a precaution,” Scamander said. “One Leta insisted on. I see she was right”

Of course she had been right, no wizard worth their magic would wake up with the right foot wandless. 

“Can we trust you with it?” Lestrange was a cautious kind of person, it seemed. How annoying.

“You’ll have to risk it, won’t you?” He smiled charmingly.

“I don’t think so.” Leta’s raised eyebrow let clear that Regulus was as charming as a flobberworm.

....Inconvenient, but probably true. 

“You’re outnumbered and fighting with an unpracticed wand,” she continued then paused, letting the fact sink in. “Easy prey, really” Regulus’ lips twitched.

If only she knew. This was hardly the first or the worst precarious situation he had found himself in. 

Strictly speaking, his disadvantages were undeniable - Regulus would be a fool if he were to fight to win. He could, however, fight to escape, a much doable goal. As a bonus, he had spent way too much time on the run to not be an expert at it. He cast a silent _Accio_ again, this time as far as the spell would go, just to cover all his goalposts -life with a wand was so much easier than without - and tried to stall a little. 

“This is no way to repay a Life Debt, Miss Lestrange” Regulus tried for coy, but his smile was just a tad too smarmy if Scamander's increasingly reddening face had anything to do with it. 

“Then it’s a good thing she’s not alone, then” A most unwelcome (unfamiliar) voice argued, another wand pointing straight at him. The woman holding it was pretty in a more approachable way than the other two. Not homely, exactly, but warm nonetheless. She also had a very determined expression. Regulus maintained his smirk by pure force of will. Things were not looking up for him.

“And you are?” 

“Porpentina Goldstein, at your service.” She winced "Well, not really, with the...you know what I mean"

Regulus choked on air. Things were so not looking up for him, in fact, they were looking down. Directly into hell. 

“The _Auror_?” 

She looked at him strangely.

“...You have heard of me?” 

Regulus tried not to gape. Had he heard of her? She was only one of the figureheads on the fall of Grindelwald! She should have been on his history books if Binns was worth anything as a teacher. Porpentina Scamander Neé Goldstein had been a big deal in her youth. She was considered one of the greatest Aurors ever recorded. It is said that she could duel anyone into a standstill and the only reason she did not defeat Grindelwald in single combat was that she was pregnant at the time. 

“Not at all” Regulus replied blandly, wilfully ignoring Lestrange’s doubtful (and elegant, damn her for being so likable) scoffing. Bad news, he was too unsettled to manage a decent lie. Good news, he could vaguely sense his wand advancing towards him. he just needed a little more time. 

“It’s illegal to steal another’s wizard wand,” Scamander declared stony, providing him the time he wanted in his righteousness, “As chief Auror, I could arrest you for that”

Regulus rolled his eyes. Subtly. 

"Considering you took mine first and have no intention of returning it," he drawled lazily, "I doubt your claim will hold"

"It doesn't need to," Scamander shrugged with practiced ease, "you're a suspicious individual, I am sure we will find more if we just scratch at you a little"

Now, that wasn't very nice of him. Although it was smart, Regulus had to admit. Maybe Lestrange didn’t have bad taste, after all, it took a special kind of Gryffindor to develop a brain- a rare feat in itself. Regulus, however, was not tempted to test how cunning a Griffyndor could be. 

But maybe he would be interested in seeing how soft. 

"Scratch away, then," Regulus shot back as carelessly as he could, "have no consideration for the man who saved your fianceé"

"And I am thankful for that," the man looked it. Earnest too, for all the good it would do Regulus in a cell. "However," he raised an eyebrow, "I did not get this high by trusting blindly"

"Yet you ask it of me," Regulus snapped, tired of the stand. This was taking so long. He cast an impatient _Accio_ for his wand, with no care for distance or obstacles, only a spiteful will powering up the spell. It was becoming obvious he needed to regroup, and fast, to figure out what was he going to do. Preferably without being overwhelmed by new troubling information or historically relevant figures. 

A purple light passed just above Regulus’ right ear, misplacing some of his hair as it did. It hit the turned chair behind him and the wood rapidly turned rotten until it dissolved into dust. Regulus repressed a shiver. That was a nasty, if not familiar, curse. _Imputresco_ was dangerous because its effects were so hard to stop, let alone reverse. Not one of Mother's favorites but it was close enough for Regulus to remember the countercurse. 

“Regulus,” Lestrange's voice was quiet but there was nothing soft about it. Her eyes were dark and dangerous, a silent warning. “The wand, if you please.”

Regulus waited for a beat. Nodded.

Showtime. 

“Of course,” he smiled guilelessly, “here.” He offered his wand to Scamander just in time for his to come straight at him, with a short fat man cursing rather humorously behind it. 

“You!!” He could be heard saying “Magical stick!! Stop floating away from me! Stay!!”

Regulus found himself being offended on behalf of his wand. It was _not_ a dog. 

“I don’t understand,” another voice could be heard, sounding rather rushed and vaguely familiar. “It’s warded against the summoning charm, this shouldn’t be happening”

The both of them, a rather comical duo considering one was short and fat and the other lanky and thin, arrived just in time for Regulus to snatch his wand from the air after carelessly throwing -from distraction purposes, Regulus did not like to be unnecessarily rude- Scamander’s wand at his general (or not) direction.

(And if he only snatched his wand faster than both Lestrange and Goldstein because of his past as a seeker, well. Never let it be said that Regulus wasn’t resourceful.)

“I took precautions against theft,” Regulus added casually. “After all, you never know who will take your wand from you when you are indisposed.”

“...Right.” The short man smiled as he visibly shook away his confusion. Perhaps Regulus had been too subtle. “I’m Jacob Kowalski, nice to meet you” He offered him his hand with a smile. No matter how hard Regulus looked at it, there was no hint of anything other than good-natured politeness in him. He wasn't attractive in a conventional way, not like the other four, but he had a disarming face, genuine and made for smiling. A nice contrast, considering the serious wariness he had been subjected to from the rest. 

“Regulus” He shook it, feeling cautious himself. He was never good at managing that kind of person, the genuinely nice ones, so the best option was to get on their good side and stay there unnoticed. Still, the man was a little strange, was he a muggle-born? He seemed very unfamiliar with common magical things, like wands, which was not a thing most people were confused about. Maybe he was just American.

“Sorry for all the wand-grabbing” He gave a good shake. Regulus stared at the not-intentioned euphemism. Yeah, the man was completely unaware of the second meaning of that. “We just had a couple of rough days, you see, and we became rather cautious”

“Ah. Understandable, really” Regulus nodded politely, slipping his wand up his sleeve. 

“Is it?” Goldstein ( _Porpentina Goldstein!_ a part of his brain insisted with the remains of youthful hero-worship) interrupted with a note of cold professionalism. “You didn’t seem to find it so reasonable before”

"Why do you say that?" The tall man asked. He looked a lot like Scamander, only with freckles and red hair. Oh, and according to Regulus' memories, he was the famous magizoologist, Newt Scamander. 

He was never taking life-changing decisions without taking a nap first again. 

“Do not give it much importance,” the other Scamander, Theseus like the famous auror, because why have one intimidately famous and powerful auror interrogating you when you can have _two of them_ , cut in. “No wizard will take well to wake up in an unknown place wandless”

He stared. He was right, of course, but of all the people here, Regulus would have bet on anyone but him to see things from his perspective. He was the one whose wand Regulus er, _borrowed_ , and the only person he explicitly threatened. 

How... Pointlessly noble of him. 

“Theseus is just like that,” Lestrange told him in a quiet voice charged with fondness. “It’s part of his Gryffindor righteousness. He always has to do the right thing.”

“Sounds exhausting” Regulus blurted out.

“It can be that” Lestrange smiled “I find it quite charming”

“What are you muttering over there, Leta?” Theseus -he can’t keep calling Scamander when there was another Scamander, that was a headache and a half-smiled at Lestrange with a warmth that was half a shade too shy of adoration. “Are you talking behind my back again?” He was too stunning with that open expression so Regulus centered in his ears, because they were big and goofy, in a fascinating contrast with his perfectly chiseled features. 

“I would never,” Lestrange grinned before walking towards him. Her whole face changed with it, lighting up where before it was made full of shadows. It was... definitively something. Theseus received her in his arms with a kiss on the forehead and she closed her eyes. Regulus averted his gaze, feeling as if he intruded in something intimate.

“They are a little much” Scamander (Newt. _Newt!_ Scamander!) told him with a deep understanding and avoided looking at him directly in the eyes in an awkward manner. 

Regulus decided that wouldn't have been so charming without the freckles. Or the shy undertones. Or the knowledge that he was probably the best magizoologist that ever existed and instead of a manageable old man he was an attractive young one.

“I miss Queenie,” Kowalski said with feeling, looking at the other two. Regulus remembered the blond (deranged) woman he was with the day before and wondered if that was who he was talking about. He hoped not, but a glance around the suddenly uncomfortable air around the man confirmed it. 

“She made her choice, Jacob,” Goldstein said quietly, looking unbearably sad about it, “she's my sister but we can’t- I…” She looked at the ground as if in search of wisdom or answers. Regulus wished her good luck with it. “There’s nothing we can do about it”

Technically speaking, they were things they could do about it, like kidnapping if they were the forgiving sort or blasting her away from the family tree and forgetting she ever existed if not -Regulus would not recommend the second. Thirteen-year-old him was all over that, but by sixteen, Regulus noticed that Sirius would be just as annoying inside of the family as outside it. And he only spoke to him in one of those cases- but he didn’t think he should tell them. He should stay there, silent and uncomfortable, as three people mourned the idiot that joined a Dark Lord. 

(Did Sirius ever do this when he-

Well, of course not, not that Regulus cared or anything-)

His stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. 

“Ah, you haven’t had breakfast yet, have you?” Kowalski dropped his melancholy at the sound, making Regulus’ face feel even warmer. “Do you like croissants? I finally went to a _boulangerie_! It was so-”

The man proceeded to rant with vehemence about the wonders of french desserts. Regulus could only stare, a little lost, as the man practically dragged him out of his room, down the stairs, and directly into the kitchen, where he could rant comfortably and point to the various pastries and buns while he was at it, too. That was a lot of enthusiasm for baked goods.

“Jacob has a bakery in New York,” Newt told him quietly while the shorter man ranted about the wonders of bonbons. Regulus nodded politely in thanks and asked after the dancing eclairs or the shivering soufflés just to be polite. It would be smart to start building up trust with these people, he had a feeling they would not let him go out into the city to never return.

However, his good intentions backfired spectacularly, as they tended to do. At first, he thought it was because he accidentally gave Kowalski a heart attack, which was not great for trust. However, the reality was worse. Apparently, Kowalski was totally unaware of the existence of magical foods, much less magical confectionery and so-

So, somehow, Regulus had been conned into cooking and sharing the recipe of the sparkling chouquettes, which was why he was covered in flour and stirring the mass with his wand as if it were a potion when the (random) elder from the day before presented himself as _Nicholas Flamel_. 

“How quaint,” Regulus forced a smile, silently praying for mercy. Just a little bit of it, “you share the name of the best alchemist in the world,” as a treat.

“Oh, I don’t know about the best.” The man blushed. His prayers, as always, were taken as a challenge. Thank you very much, Mother Magic. “I fear I have not seriously practiced alchemy for a long time. ” 

So this _really_ was- 

“Do you like sparkling chouquettes?” Kowalski asked with the uncaring smile of the ignorant. Regulus tried not to hate him. “Regulus’ house-elf taught him the recipe” He failed. 

“Your house-elf taught you to cook?” Nicholas Flamel, the legendary alchemist himself, sounded incredulous. This was not the worst day of Regulus’ life, a cave full of inferi trying to eat a poisoned him was difficult to beat, but it was a very close second. Someone kill him now. 

“Yes” 

They were dire consequences to time-travel. Regulus knew all about it, it's part of the reason why he time-traveled. He would like some of them at this exact moment in time. With haste. 

“That’s...unusual”

(He could, of course, lie about it. But Kreacher had lost too much for Regulus to deny him his place on his life and anyway-) 

“Yes”

(Oh by the sacred Twenty-eight, _Kreacher!)_

“And are you any good?”

“Of course,” Kreacher made sure of it. 

(Who, Regulus was starting to realize, he had _left him behind._ )

“Then...I would like a chouquette, yes”

_(Again)_

Regulus smiled blandly to hide his panic. 

“Coming right up”

(Morgan's braids, Kreacher was going to kill him) 

"While you cook would you mind answering some questions?" Porpentina ~~Scamander~~ Goldstein asked him with a sharp smile that did not affect refusals, or else. Regulus tried not to jump and start firing curses in a fit. He had not noticed when she had entered the kitchen which- which, at a second glance, was full of people. There was even a new one, an Asiatic woman that Regulus vaguely associated with someone with brains and no taste.

(Fuck)

"Of course," his smile became even blander, as bland as a plate of stale English biscuits in the middle of an Indian bazaar or, more fittingly, a french boulangerie. 

"Is your name really Regulus Black?" Goldstein asked immediately. Normally Regulus could appreciate a no-nonsense kind of person. He considered himself one.

_(Fuck.)_

Normally, he was not cooking sparkling chouquettes for Nicholas Bloody Flamel. The legendary alchemist. Because he time-traveled into a Grindelwald Rally, which was a step up from appearing directly in Grindelwald's or Voldemort's lap, but not that up. 

"Why do you ask?" 

And asking that inane question made it official. Regulus had turned into a nonsense kind of person.

"Because Regulus Black is a nineteen-year-old boy currently working as an intern at Saint Mungo" Lestrange deadpanned

Regulus stared in incomprehension. He had trouble preparing a correct, non-suspicious response to squirrel out the sudden interrogation when he was busy trying to grasp how someone had thought that it was a good idea to let loose a Black in a _hospital._

"Don't lie now, " Goldstein was severe, "You will not like how it ends for you" 

How nice, they were back to threats. Regulus smiled, tried to think nice, not-panicked thoughts, and very carefully did not reach for the salt. Ruining the whole batch of buns would be very funny and almost as gratifying as seeing Goldstein's face after eating one. However, that would be ultimately petty and pointless. Regulus had to be strategic, he needed to win the long con, not the satisfaction of a small victory.

"I am not lying.” Regulus nonchalantly started to pound into the dough. Pleasantly, as you do. “Didn't you tell me yourself? How could I possibly be Regulus Black?" It was a slow process. Somewhat intense. 

"And yet it is your name" Lestrange, whose wit Regulus was quickly losing his patience with, was not intimidated. "Quite curious, isn't it?" Regulus stopped beating the batter into a pulp after one particularly hard hit. Lestrange seemed amused.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far" Regulus' smile was freezingly polite despite his bared teeth. A threat, disguised for polite company. He started to shape the chouquettes in an effort to stay calm and then spread them into the baking sheet.

"I don't think-," Newt interrupted nervously. He twitched and then settled when his eyes darted to Regulus, a determined expression that was prominent even under his freckles. "You helped us, yesterday and I don't think you mean any harm" He then turned the full force of his kindness into Goldstein "We shouldn't treat him with mistrust when he hasn't done anything. If we start being like this now, where will we stop, at the end of this war?"

Newt looked torn between faith and despair. His eyes were big, genuine and blue, his inner turmoil reflected on his face with the same allure of a classical painting. He was beautiful. Goldstein held his gaze -a braver woman than Regulus was- and softened.

"You're right," she admitted and then turned to him, "I apologize. It's just- It's been a couple of rough days, and you shouldn't have to pay for it." She looked tired, all of the sudden. Sad. 

Regulus looked away. He did not want to see them there, regretful and _good_ , thinking that Regulus was a man worthy of trust. He wasn't.

"No harm done," he heard himself say. Regulus concentrated on sprinkling the pixie sugar evenly over the chouquettes. He was not a good man. He had betrayed the people more important to him twice over, for greed first and for whatever scraps of courage he could gather into vengeance right after, and he did not deserve their consideration. He took a deep breath and put the baking sheet into the oven, setting the timer with a wave of his wand. 

"It would help if you were a little less suspicious," Lestrange added casually and he smirked to hide how grateful he was for that distraction. "Or forthcoming" Nevermind, she was a snake and Regulus couldn't believe he had liked her. 

"Leta!" Newt looked appalled, "don't be harsh"

"No, she's right." Theseus stated, "you _are_ a suspicious individual. However, my brother is not wrong." He seemed to stare into Regulus' soul. He absent-mindedly reinforced his Occlumency shields, just in case. "We should have not treated you like an enemy when you showed yourself an ally and for that, I apologize."

No one tried to enter his mind. Regulus felt the uncomfortable itch of being exposed either way. He cleared his throat and nodded, in thanks or acceptance he couldn't say.

"I propose a compromise," Nicholas Flamel declared suddenly. He had been so quiet and still, Regulus had almost forgotten he was there. "You tell us a little about yourself, just enough to put our minds at ease, and we don't pry like a pair of overzealous nifflers"

Regulus considered that deal. He knew it couldn't get much better, and it was preferable to lead the conversation than to improvise innocuous answers for the questions of two Aurors of renown. He agreed quietly. He had no time to prepare an elaborate story that tied all knots closed, but he could make a rough draft of it. No improvising, lying was not his forte. It was less crippling than it seemed, he was very good at keeping secrets and letting people assume their own versions of events. One that, more often than not, benefited him.

"I suppose I should start by saying that it was not my intention to assist to yesterday gathering" He started unhurried, nothing in his face or posture showing the knot of nerves he was beneath his skin. Inside he felt clumsy and unprepared, Fortunately, his words would not reflect that. "I had just received terrible news" Sirius dead, at the hands of a cackling Bellatrix while the furious ghost-son of James Potter chased the revived wraith Regulus failed to kill, "and I-"

Regulus noticed his hands were shaking and hid them under the table. This was what happened when he insisted on ignoring reality. It caught up with him, like being hit by the same spell twice. He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat, trying to regain some semblance of self-control. His pain was useful -a truth, to sell the lie- but he refused to use it, to undervalue it, _to share it,_ for something as underhanded as this. 

"Anyway," he breathed out, hurriedly arranging the pain into a pile and sealing it shut behind a brutal mental shield, "I do not need to tell you how yesterday went, I suppose." He changed cauldrons, "and this morning," he turned to Theseus "I do apologize for jumping you, I admit that waking up in a strange place wandless does not do wonders to my mood"

"I am sorry to hear that, son," Flamel said, staring at him with something like indulgence. "But I am afraid that you did not answer the most pertinent question our friends had."

"I did not?" Regulus asked, bewildered. 

"Oh no," then Flamel grew amused. "It was both ruthless and brilliant of you, to use your personal pain to draw suspicions away from your person" Regulus stilled. The man may be a genius at alchemy but that was uncalled for. "Nonetheless the question of your name remains."

Regulus resisted the urge to make a rude gesture at him and to curse him and his long-dead mother. He thought he had left behind old men who hid manipulatin behind benevolence when he graduated Hogwarts. It seemed not. Dumbledore probably learned it from him, too, if their famous friendship was anything to go by. Now, _that_ was a man Regulus never had any problem lying to. 

"It's Arsenius," he returned easily, "Regulus is my middle name." He smiled ruefully, "I got into the habit of using it instead but I never thought I'll be accused of being a member of the Black House for it"

"You do have the Black look" Newt told him as an apology. Regulus gritted his teeth and bore it. What a burden to bear, to look like your own family, like a wizard of your old noble house, made out of witches and wizards much better than yourself. 

...With a few, barking mad, exceptions.

"You also have their tendency to talk in circles," Theseus said unamused, "I would like the truth now."

Regulus silently cursed. What could he possibly say? That yes, he was Regulus but not this timeline Regulus? Yeah, he didn't think so. He took a look at the timer of the oven. Ten minutes left, and then he could busy himself plating the chouquettes and come up with an escape plan. Running might be impossible now, but surely these people had bigger concerns in their lives than a misplaced mysterious Black. 

"...Look," He started, dreading the words that were to come out his mouth. "I am not supposed to admit this and you are not supposed to know this" A beat, partly to wait to the enraged spirit of his mother to appear and curse him out of the family even though his mother was both dead and a little girl. "I am a Black, technically, but I assure you, I am not in any family tree that family has." She had always been fueled by an unholy amount of spite, Regulus wouldn't put it past her. 

"You're a bastard," Lestrange said bluntly. And then, quieter, "I understand"

Regulus had the feeling he had just misstepped, badly, without being conscious of it. It felt like finding the bludger's spot empty in its container. That slow realization that at some point you were going to get hit, hard, and probably fall in your ass while you were at it. 

"You...understand?" Regulus inquired politely. He would prefer if the rogue bludger didn't catch him by surprise. Lestrange pursed her lips -they were ridiculously full, what was with people in the past being unbearably attractive, thank _Merlin_ Nicholas Flamel was just old - and averted her eyes. 

"Lestrange's family matters," she said curtly. "Let's just say it's complicated"

Regulus didn't attempt to pry. He knew better than most you couldn't be a pureblood family in Britain without the overcomplicated family drama. In his own family, the drama got so convoluted Aunt Cassiopea started to carry a little ~~black~~ book with her to record it. She used it mainly for blackmail purposes, of course, but it was the thought that counted. 

"So yesterday you just appeared, for no reason?" Goldstein thankfully changed the topic. What a focused individual, Regulus had hoped they would leave it behind. "An accidental Apparition?" And him with it, of course. 

Now, how to explain time-travel without telling it for what it was while maintaining a minimum of sense, so people could conceivably believe it. 

"I think so?" Regulus hid a wince and drew a blank. Desperate, he tried to retrace his steps before Grindelwald's rally. He remembered the Ministry and then flashes. A tavern with a bottle of fire-whiskey, runes scribbled all over the forest floor, the broken windows of an apothecary in Knocturn Alley, parchment full of arithmancy calculations carelessly thrown and written over, the night sky. "The details are a little blurry." 

The truth was gibberish, so Regulus hoped for a sudden improvement of his abysmal skills at improvisation. 

"That was incredibly careless of you," Theseus told him, "it is a miracle you didn't get splinched" 

"I know," Regulus said softly. He couldn't believe that had worked, he hadn't even needed to lie. Apparently, where carefully constructed lies did not work, ignorance and confusion will. What a bunch of crap. 

"It's a little weird, isn't it?" Newt asked suddenly "I do not know much about politics or old families, but I thought the Black took much pride for naming its heirs after the stars"

Of all the things to rat Regulus out, it had to be one of the tamest, most harmless traditions of his family. Wow. His luck was so bad, he wondered if he had been cursed. 

"If that's true," Goldstein continued, demonstrating how you could deduce your way out of any circles Regulus talked with the power of teamwork, "why would they name a bastard after one?" 

Well, fuck. 

"My mother loved me to the point of rebellion" Regulus lied.

"Not if she was a Black," Lestrange refused immediately, joining the efforts the other two hastaken to tear out all of Regulus' deception, "they are one of the most...enthusiastic pureblood houses. The existence of a bastard is a damning fact onto itself, but a star named one?"

"Not even Arcturus would dare," Theseus completed the group with a smirk, "and he had just bribed half the Wizemagot to award him an Order of Merlin, First Class"

Regulus had always had a special place in his heart for the grandfather after who he was named, but he was losing it. He had heard the tales of a brazen youth -Sirius never shut up about them, when they were young- but a bought Order of Merlin, First Class? That was not audacious, just tacky. 

"I-" Regulus pursed his mouth. The way those four were covering each other goalposts so efficiently, there was no way to land a quaffle past them. So, that left the truth, "I can't tell you who I am."

"Can't or won't?" The asian woman interrupted softly. The first thing she had ever said and it had to get into Regulus' nerves. 

"Can't"

Regulus curt reply was heard just before the oven pinged. He got up, his eyes never leaving the others. He had to solve this, but it was better to show off his sparkling chouquettes first. People were easier to handle with a full stomach. After serving them and accepting Kowalski's effusive compliments, Regulus remained standing. The rest were distracted by his delicious baking - a great chance to plan a quick escape. 

The door was out, both Theseus and Golstein were in his path, probably on purpose too. The window was over the counter, and small enough he would have to squeeze himself out, but maybe an Enlarging Charm could fix it, if he was quick enough.

"Now, young man," Flamel called, twarting him, "I think you owe us the truth" Regulus smiled bitterly. He sat in his chair and picked up a Choquette. Sometimes, it was best to accept you were beaten, lay low, and try to run when their guard were down. 

“I did not lie, my traveling was mostly accidental,” he said, after which he took a big bite out of his bun. They were delightfully bite-sized, just as they should be. Kreacher had taught him well. “As a side note, can anyone tell me the date?” Regulus picked up another chouquette. _Delicious_. 

"April 27th" 

Regulus had considered the pros and cons of his continued ignorance. He was sure he could get access to the date without needing assistance, like in a newspaper. Nevertheless, maybe he did need help and Nicholas Flamel was not claimed to be one of the brightest minds in history of wizardkind for no reason. He took a deep breath and prepared for the fall out, his hand tense around his wand.

"And the year?"

“1927"

Almost twenty years to Grindelwald's fall. That was a lot of time to be under the thumb of a Dark Lord. More the reason to speak, then, if he did not want to get tangled into that mess. 

"That's a lot earlier than I thought," he confessed easily. A terrible silence fell unto the room and Regulus could feel the incredulous gazes on his person, but ignored them in favour of eating another mini-bun. He was rather hungry.

"Earlier than you thought as in…" Kowalski gestured a little helplessly "As in you don't know what year is it because you forgot or as in you don't know what year is it because it's not the year you're supposed to be in?"

Under the unflinching stares of the handsome and relevant figures of a not-so-distant past, Regulus reconsidered lying. It would be a little pointless after revealing too much and he doubted very much a group as sharp as this one would let him get away with it. Even if they did, Regulus would be lost and alone in the wrong time with no idea on how to return to his and the shadow of an impending war and a Dark Lord over his head. 

"The second one"

"Young man" Nicholas interrupted softly, a quiet undertone of horror bare in his voice, "what did you do?" 

Regulus shrugged and prepared himself a cup of tea. Clearly, no one else was going to offer him one, and he was thirsty. 

"That's impossible! Time travel?” Kowalski started slowly in the absolute stillness that engulfed the room. He turned to Newt Smanader “That is so- Amazing! You can do that too!?” Kowalski exclaimed with glee. 

Scamander looked uncomfortable. Regulus ate some more of his chouquette. Even if he was the only one enjoying them, he had made them, he was well within his right to eat them all. 

“Er, theoretically we can, with time turners but-”

“We most certainly _cannot,_ ” Nicholas Flamel interrupted with graveness. “The consequences of time-travel are often disastrous, not only for the ones involved but for time itself. It is a wonder nothing has gone catastrophically wrong yet and not only for the caster”

“Yet” Regulus added a little hopefully. May the consequences of his own actions strike him down hard and fast. May they smote him to ashes. May he never had to deal again with a Dark Lord. 

...After he finished his breakfast, preferably. 

“You time-traveled” Goldstein deadpanned.”That’s illegal.” Regulus stared. Was she going to arrest him? She raised her wand. It looked like a yes. 

“You can’t arrest me,” Regulus said with his dragon-sized brain. It has served him well, except when it didn’t, like when it decided to join a cult with enslaving tattoos or get hideously drunk and time travel into the lap of another Dark Lord. “Technically, I don’t exist yet”

“You can tell that to the MACUSA-” Golstein started, her wand raised and pointing straight at him. 

Well, that was dumb. Time for Take Two. 

“I also know critical information that could help in the war against Grindelwald.” 

Nicholas Flamel let out a scandalized burst of air. It was a little dusty, even if he was right to do so. Regulus sometimes couldn’t believe the things that get out his mouth. So much for Take Two. 

“Young man! How could you possibly suggest that we-” He sputtered “Time is not so easily bent that-”

“No, let him continue,” Theseus interrupted him, leaning across the table “You are going to help us fight him?”

Regulus tilted back, with a relaxed grace that he did not feel but knew all too well how to emulate. Genetics. They were complicated. 

“I would like to” He confers, coy. “But should I?”

“You most definitely should not!” Flamel cut in, inflamed. Regulus was getting a little tired of loosig any ground gained because of this man. “The fluidity of time is one of life’s variables and you cannot play with it for the benefit of simple men!” He didn't even had the redeeming quality of being outrageously good-looking, like the rest. 

“Says the man who refused Death” Regulus snapped, finally losinghis patience. “Or is it time that you denied when your philosopher's stone keeps you anchored to this plane instead of the next?”

“The philosopher stone was the result of decades of study!” He fired back. Then, he slumped, defeated “Many times I regretted its creation. To defy the universe’s laws...it is a lonely affair, Mr. Black, one I think no one should have a part on, much less someone that claims to travel across time _accidentally_ ”

That...may be factually right, somewhere. It felt staged, though, like the regrets of an old, wise man, whose only desire was to see the younger generation chose more wisely than he did. Regulus gritted his teeth, kept his silence, and knew with absolute certainty that this is where Dumbledore got his spiel from. Unfortunately for both Dumbledore and Flamel, if he had not fallen for it as a teenager he will not fall for it now. 

“But,” Newt interrupted softly, “I thought the biggest objection against time-travel is that you can’t really change the past.”

“That is reserved to time-turners,” Regulus explained “Technically, when you turn back the clock you are not jumping through time, but ...stretching your timeline a little bit. Time is somewhat elastic so it can flop back in its place safely while you gain a few hours” 

“You get more time but you don’t touch Time” Nicholas Flamel stared at him, more intent behind his glassy eyes. "That was a very specific answer for someone who accidentally time-travels, Mr Black"

"I was almost an Unspeakable, once," Regulus allowed a bit of information in hopes of being more personable. They didn't seem the type to kill their problems away, but efficiency oftentimes overcame morality. "Either way, the point of a time-turner is that you don't touch the timeline, so no major events can be changed"

"Of course," Lestrange drawled carefully, "but you didn't use a time-turner, did you?"

Regulus bit into another sparkling chouquette and did not answer. 

“You saved Leta’s life yesterday,” Newt said, reluctantly. “Which means-”

“That he already changed time” Goldstein finished, with a growing look of horror. “Is that what is going to happen? Is time going to...stretch back unto its place?”

Well, hopefully not, Regulus had no idea how that would look like but his gut told him magical catastrophe. Something terrible, like whatever happened to end Camelot. A great civilization, gone until only their legend remained. 

“What is that supposed to mean!?” Theseus exclaimed, “maybe he was always supposed to save her, time paradox exist! Time is not going to, to explode or whatever is it, just because Leta is alive!”

"In all likelihood," Regulus cleared his throat, "if something like that was going to happen, it would already have." A pause, "of course, I would be the most affected by it. Lestrange is reasonably safe-"

"Reasonably? That is not enough-!"

"Theseus, try to calm down. She is fine, nothing happened-"

"How do you intend I calm down when Leta could die at any given moment?"

"I would die first, in any case, so you don't have to-"

"You! Do you even know what you did? Playing with time like that? Is life a game to you?"

"He saved my life, Theseus"

"He traveled through time! That is not normal! Or safe!"

“You really did, didn’t you?” Flamel interrupted the scaling argument with aplomb, “You interfered with Time”

He looked as if a strong wind could whisk him away. Regulus felt a little mean for wishing the window was open. Regulus didn't have anything to add to that, all things he probably could say either theoretical or incriminating. The rest of the group chose this moment to follow his footsteps and fell silent. 

"I think we should ask for a second opinion," Flamel said finally, breaking the tension with a tired sigh. "I'll write to Albus, he'll know what to do"

Regulus breathed in and out carefully. He did not want to jump to conclusions, not yet. 

"Albus?" He pried

"Yes, Albus Dumbledore," Flamel nodded, "It's strange you have not heard of him. He is one of the most brilliant witches I have ever had the pleasure to meet. If anyone can help you, it's him"

Regulus begged to differ. He viciously bit the last chouquette instead of saying it, though. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally everyone in Magical Britain, at the sight of a slight magical inconvenience: We need Dumbledore
> 
> Regulus: wE nEeD duMBleDore
> 
> (Also, no chouquettes were done or harmed in this chapter because nothing Regulus did is how you *actually* make chouquettes)


End file.
